


The Lingerie Incident

by sunandoceanblue



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Evil Space Husbands, He is just the worst, Hux Has No Chill, Kylux - Freeform, Leia doesn't deserve this, Lingerie, M/M, honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunandoceanblue/pseuds/sunandoceanblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux doesn’t want to be thinking of Leia while he’s tugging down his pants. Instead he thinks of Kylo, and how he’d react to this. He’d be terribly jealous. His secret revealed. To his mother of all people. Hux grimaces in amusement as he shimmies his pants down with one hand, the other holding his coat. </p><p>(Hux is caught by the Resistance and they see a little too much of what Kylo likes him wearing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lingerie Incident

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by [pidgy-draws's](http://pidgy-draws.tumblr.com/) gorgeous [artwork](http://pidgy-draws.tumblr.com/post/144011499006/sailershanty-is-a-terrible-influence-dont) that was actually inspired by some of my [headcanons](http://thesunandoceanblue.tumblr.com/post/144024162193/and-what-if-you-combined-those-lingerie-headcanons). 
> 
> I just saw it and had to turn the idea into a fic so here you go.

It’s the contrast that Kylo likes the most, he thinks. The pale, freckle dappled skin, matched with the black lace. The difference between the feel of his skin and the feel of the stockings. The way it all clings to Hux’s thin but firm body _just right_ , showing off pale slivers of skin.

Above him he hears a chuckle. Kylo drags his eyes away.

“I take it you like them then?” Hux drawls, brow arched, fingers curling through Kylo’s hair.

Kylo makes a satisfied sound, nuzzling against Hux’s inner thighs, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin. Hux gasps. Kylo grins. “I do.”

And so he should—he picked them out. It’s not as Hux’s lingerie collection is particularly excessive. Most were tucked away in his closet long before Kylo came, from back when Hux had been more... sexually adventurous. Not to say he isn’t now but he doesn’t have the time. Kylo—being the nosy fuck he is—found them once and his throat went dry just at the sight of them. It took him a terribly long time to swallow his pride and just ask about them. He had been irritated by how blasé Hux had been in respond when Kylo brought them up _(“Oh, the lingerie. Old stuff. Good for when someone wants you to dom them by stepping on their chest and making them cry at three in the morning. Obviously I had to get an entire set. It stuck for a while.”_ ) Fuck Hux and his weirdly specific answers.

After another adoring kiss, Kylo pulls himself up, hands against Hux’s shoulders, pushing him flat against the mattress and climbing on top of him. “Thank you.”

Hux stares up at him. His lips twitch into one of his almost smiles. “You’re the one who chose them out.”

Kylo preens. He doesn’t ask for much, personally. Sure, he demands things for any missions he’s partaking in but it’s been ingrained in his mind that want is a distraction that pulls you away from need. _Go from A to C and ignore B because it is full of temptation that will lead you astray._

Unlike Snoke, Hux indulges his husband. Frivolously so.

“Don’t stare at me like that?”

Kylo blinks. “Like what?”

Hux’s nose crinkles slightly. “Like you want to peel my skin off.”

“I love your insides.”

That earns a laugh from Hux. Cold and awful. Gods, Kylo would kill for that laugh. “How romantic.”

When Hux goes lax under him, Kylo takes it as permission to lean in for a kiss, open mouthed and hungry. Hux accepts the kiss, lashes fluttering shut. Kylo’s too heavy and too hot above him and Hux adores it—projects it. Kylo drinks in the feedback, tongue sliding into Hux’s mouth, coming home, brushing over his molars one by one.

“Kylo...” Hux all but slurs, mouth full.

Kylo rocks against him, cutting off any other words, any other thoughts. Hux groans, back arching elegantly, like a cat. It’s then Kylo drags his mouth away, kissing down, attacking his lover’s pale throat, exposed for him, waiting.

“Kylo—I... I have to get dressed. I’m leaving soon.”

Kylo _whines_ against his neck. “No. Stay. Right here.” He bites down on his pulse softly—in the way that very suddenly reminds Hux that Kylo could kill him, oh, so easily but _wouldn’t_. “With me.”

Hux shifts, propping himself up on his elbows. “How about I cut you a deal? If you be good for me, for the whole time I’m gone, I’ll give you a reward.”

Humming, Kylo leans up once more, dragging his teeth across Hux’s lips. They’re chafed. Kylo loves them anyway. “What sort of reward?”

“Whatever you want.”

That earns a purr from Kylo. “Deal.” He gives a nice, slow roll of his hips, feeling Hux’s hardness through the silk. “Do you have to get dress right now?”

Hux cocks a brow, exhaling. “Well. I suppose I have a few minutes to spare.”

“All I need to make you come.”

“I sense a challenge.”

*

Hux can tell when someone is watching while he sleeps.

Kylo does it a lot. He claims it’s because he wants to make sure Hux actually stays asleep for longer than two hours but Hux suspects it’s just because he’s an unhinged individual who doesn’t understand how intense his own gaze is.

Anyway. Hux can hear voices. Muttering. Hushed and tucked far away, melding together. Colours dance in the darkness of his vision as he senses the movement around him. He’s somewhere he shouldn’t be and even before he gains his vision his bones are aching in a way that alludes to danger, every fibre of his being screaming to put up his defences.

He keeps his eyes closed. Draws in a calming breath, keeping still. He listens. There are people in the room, whisper. Hushing though they must assume he’s still unconscious. He mentally asses himself for any injuries, discretely wiggles his fingers, his toes. No broken bones accounted for. His face hurts like hell, however; he’s sure his lip his split and his left cheekbone is throbbing. He tries to remember what he did to earn it—did he put of a fight?

Yes. He remembers. Transport ambushed. They must have received Intel that _General Hux_ would be on the shuttle. The ‘troopers flanked him, protecting their leader, at all costs. They paid with their lives. Hux can only remember shooting one of the Resistance scum with a discarded blaster before he himself was stunned.

“...looks a lot scarier on the holos...”

“Are you _sure_ that’s him?”

“His coat has the General’s stripes. It _must_ be him.”

Hux thought very little of being talked about behind his back. It’s different when they’re talking right in front of him.

He figures there no better time to reveal his conscious state, lifting his head and calmly opening his eyes, a clear indication that he’d been so for quite some time. There are four officers in the room, two of them shuffling back as soon as they’re met with the pale green fury. One lifts a commlink to his mouth, muttering something Hux can’t hear. They don’t speak to him. He doesn’t acknowledge them—they’re beneath him, after all.

Hux decides to better pass his time by taking in his surroundings. The room is barren; the only real piece of furniture being the restraints he’s in. From the cool metallic walls and the ever-present humming noise, he makes the plausible assumption that they’re on a ship. Which means less ways for him to escape. Even if he killed everyone onboard— unlikely but not completely impossible, he supposes—his piloting skills are less than perfect and he certainly wouldn’t have anyone willing to co-pilot. At the moment, he should probably focus on the restraints; arms, wrists and ankles. If one of them were close enough he could always bite them. Preferably their throats. He pictures it; the cut of his teeth sinking into the skin, mercilessly, deeper, ripping at chunks of flesh as the recycled air is tainted by the foul stench of copper and wound oozes with the liquid ruby flow as he—

The door opens.

The footsteps are light, dainty but empowered even more so with age. Grey hair sits piled upon the head, hinting at a fashion that does not belong to the military, but something more regal. Weathered hands are clasped and weathered features schooled calmly, ferociously.

“Ah, _General Organa_. A pleasure, as always.”              

Leia doesn’t reply; she turns to one of her men. “Release him.”

“Ma’am—”

“It’s alright,” Leia says in this tone that implies _he won’t do any harm_.

If he could get his fingers around her neck.

Two officers step forward and undo the restraints. Easy as anything. Hux stands in place, rubbing his wrists. He doesn’t give Leia the satisfaction of moving. Of stand before her in some pathetic excuse of a submission.

“Has he been frisked for weapons?” Leia asks when he doesn’t move.

“Not yet, ma’am.”

“Do so. You don’t know what men like him could be hiding.”

The officer nods and turns to Hux, hands reaching out. Hux wants to bite off every finger and swallow them. Instead, he looks directly at Leia as he is carefully patted down.

“How’s Alderaan?” Hux asks.

Though met with no reply, Leia eyes harden a fraction and Hux feels a petty but smug victory wash over him. This women is the reason he grew up in exile, torn away from every comfort he had even known living in the Empire. How she ruined his father in such a way he never recovered. How she ruined so many men and women of the Empire. How she was claimed a heroes while he was whisked away to the corners of the Outer Rim. Hidden. Forgotten. While they celebrated. Laughed. Cheered.

He grew up a child of a fallen dynasty. While her son grew up as a Victory Kid.

Oh. Her son. Hm. He wonders when Kylo will arrive. He knows the moment his husband hears of his kidnapping, he’ll be tracking him down as soon as he can. Probably sooner. He doesn’t even to bring Kylo up to Leia.

She knows who he belongs to.

The officer patting him down has stopped. Or at least. His hands have stopped moving—they’re on his right thigh.

“I’m married, you know,” Hux says silkily.

He’s ignored. The officer’s fingers are lingering. Over the little buckles of his garter. Fuck.

“There’s something strapped to his leg.”

Well, isn’t this going to be awkward.

“General Hux,” Leia says evenly, “I think we can allow you the dignity of removing your own pants and revealing the concealed weapon you have.”

Hux blinks. Feigns innocence. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, because there’s no weapon for me to reveal to you.”

Three blasters are pointed at him, no words spoken. Typical. Of course the Resistance is too barbaric to communicate properly. He’s surprised this ship as good condition as he assumes it is. “Very well.”

The next time he sees Kylo he’s going to punch him right in his ridiculously attractive face.  

But for now, he undoes his belt, with practiced ease, letting it fall. He tugs his coat up, expression completely flat as he exposes a sliver of his stomach, his golden-red happy trail. Kylo spent a lot of time nuzzling it this morning, licking his way down inch by inch—

That is a highly inappropriate memory to think about.

Deft fingers undo the button of his trousers before swiftly zipping down his fly. It’s hard not to be dramatic about it. They’re all watching. Blasters pointed, eyes on edge. Leia is the only calm one remaining. He can’t break her. She was broken too long ago—he’s too late. She won’t crack like these officers could. She’s not built like that anymore.

Hux doesn’t want to be thinking of Leia while he’s tugging down his pants. Instead he thinks of Kylo, and how he’d react to this. He’d be terribly jealous. His secret revealed. To his mother of all people. Hux grimaces in amusement as he shimmies his pants down with one hand, the other holding his coat.

The underthings aren’t overly fancy; black and silky and fitting just right. He tugs his pants further and the lace stockings are in clear view. Hux thinks of the way Kylo moaned when he wrapped his legs around him this morning. It still feels satisfying.

Leia holds up a sharp hand. “That’s quite enough.”

The officers wear expressions of confusion, amusement and disgust.

Hux quirks a brow, _daring_ them to say something. Anything.

Leia’s expression is neutral. No hints of offence or disgust. Cool and collected and Hux would find it admirable if he didn’t despise her. “Is this some sort of sick joke, General Hux?”

There are many ways Hux could respond to this. Saying nothing would be the best option. (There are classes at the Academy that teach the students how to endure interrogations. Hux had made his interrogator cry.)

But Hux, being the awful and guiltless person he is, looks General Organa dead in the eye before answers.

“Your son seems to like them.”

You see, Hux knows that nothing burns Leia more than the fact that her son may have found solace in another monster.

“Put him back in the restraints,” Leia says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hux barely has time to zip up his pants before he’s restrained. He doesn’t protest.

Leia doesn’t look at him anymore. She thumbs the access pad beside the door and leaves.

“Give the traitor and his pilot scum boyfriend my regards!” Hux shouts after her.

He receives a punch in the gut as her dainty but dangerous footsteps vanish.

He’s briefly aware of the sensation of a needle entering his arm but he doesn’t feel the pain. Instead he closes his eyes, before he is forced to do it involuntarily.

*

It’s the screams that wake him. Confusion is his first thought. Why are people screaming bloody murder on his ship?

It’s not his ship.

The screams are getting closer. He blinks. Then—oh. He can hear it. The telltale sounds of a lightsaber. Heavy footsteps.

His Knight has come to rescue him. He’s man enough to admit he wasn’t going to get out of this by himself. But he always knew Kylo would come. Always.

The footsteps stop. There’s a smashing sound and the door just slides open.

Oh, Gods, he wearing his mask. Hux can’t punch him. Yet.

The two officers guarding him attempt to shoot. Kylo rams his saber through one of their throats, slashing down, down, down to his stomach, gutting him. The second he merely decapitated. Hux wishes sabers didn’t cauterise wounds. The fountain of blood would have looked hilarious.

Kylo straightens and turns.

Hux arches a brow. “You took too long.”

“It’s lovely to see you alive as well,” Kylo drones, powering down his saber, gliding into the room. He’s splattered in blood. One of Hux’s favourite looks for him.

He stands too close and hovers awkwardly. He lifts his free hand, fingers almost but not touching the bruise on his cheek. “Your face.”

“Yes. I was being held hostage.”

Kylo makes a feral sound, distorted by the modulator. “I’ll tear them all apart. Fools. Thinking they can harm you.”

Hux sighs in irritation. “Just let me out of these fucking binds, you idiot.”

“You could be a little more grateful,” Kylo says, tone clipped as he frees his husband with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, well being forced to strip at gunpoint didn’t exactly put me in a good mood.”

Kylo stills. The room...changes. It feels too hot and too cold at once. Hux swears the lights flicker.

“ _What?_ ”

Hux allows himself to smile. Cruel and wicked and everything wrong with the galaxy.

“Your mother knows about your little lingerie fetish.”

The already room goes quieter. The noise of the ship can hardly be heard. Without warning—but honestly, Hux should have expected it—Kylo slams Hux up against the restraints. Hux gasps, hands flying to Kylo’s wrists, squeezing them.

“Leia is here?” Kylo growls.

“As expected.”

“Where?”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Oh, how the fuck would I know, Ren?”

“What did she say to you?” Kylo pauses, gripping Hux’s coat tighter. “What did _you_ say to her?”

“I told her how much you love lingerie. On me.”

He can hear Kylo grinding his teeth under the mask. “What did—”

“We really don’t have time to argue about this,” Hux cuts off. “Get me off the fucking ship, away from these Rebel twats, so I can crawl into bed and pretend this never ended.”

Kylo steps back. He won’t drop it. Their argument will pick up from where they left off—but at a later date. “Follow my lead.” He’s already walking out the door.

Hux picks up a discarded blaster from a dead officer who doesn’t need it anymore and he takes Kylo’s hand when he offers it to Hux.

“Get me out of here, and I’ll consider still giving you your reward.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come pester me on [Tumblr](http://thesunandoceanblue.tumblr.com/) where I talk about more weird stuff like this.


End file.
